


"To mirth, to merriment... to manslaughter."

by neil4god



Series: "This mamushka is for you" [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Addams Family (1991), The Addams Family Values
Genre: AU - Erica is alive, Addams Family Wedding, Alpha Derek, Angst, BAMF Lydia, BDSM mentions, Beard Burn, Blood!, Confused Scott, Cousin It's Daughter Who, Crack, Crossover, Crying Stiles, Curious Deaton, Derek & Stiles fall a lot, Derek & Stiles have history, Derek is a Failwolf, Derek making silly faces, Derek's POV, Dogma Reference (mild), Drugged/Drunk Derek & Stiles, Granny Adam's cooking, Hurt Stiles, Knife play-a little, Lydia steals Stiles' phone, Lydia's POV, M/M, Mates, Mentions Wednesday, Mentions of possible underage - but not dubcon!, Morning After, Protective Derek, Scott's a sweetie, Stiles is an Addams, Violent Sex(ish), canon level violence, erica's POV, general silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neil4god/pseuds/neil4god
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles are drugged. Lydia is determined to not miss one minute of them being stupid together and Erica is determined to catch all of it on video. Scott's just confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lydia had never seen him this drunk. Sure she’d seen him wasted at parties and stuff, but never like this. Stiles could barely stand, his eyes were larger than should be physically possible and every word was over enunciated for clarity. It was oddly endearing. At least it would be if he was drunk rather than drugged by some as yet unknown creature trying to kill them all. Watching him interact with an equally drugged up Derek was well worth hauling her ass over to Deaton’s for. Sure Erica was recording the whole thing on her phone, but this was one of those things best experienced in person. 

Frankly it was about damn time that those two did more than growl at each other. Stiles is sitting propped up on the floor facing Derek. Neither one was capable of sitting on the tables without falling off (Lydia’s pretty sure that’s how Derek broke his nose and is the reason Stiles was laughing so hard when she came in). Scott is trying to be the responsible one, calmly trying to figure things out with Deaton; not that there’s really any point, Deaton won’t tell him anything and Stiles will just figure it out in the morning anyway. Still, at least he’s making the attempt. She on the other hand is only here to witness Stiles and Derek make fools of themselves. Derek bopped Stiles’ nose earlier shouting ‘beep!’ in his loudest quiet voice. Stiles laughed so hard he fell to the ground and Erica had to reposition him once he stopped. 

It wasn’t often that Derek and Stiles let themselves go, if they did at all. Things were starting to quiet down a little but Erica still had her phone out just in case. Lydia was almost tempted to head home when Stiles smiled sharply at Derek, his eyes flashing with mischief as he asked, “Der-ek do the thing. You have to do the thing but with all growly, please.”  
The please was tacked on at the end like Eyore’s tail, in danger of getting lost completely. Now Lydia may be a genius and have early acceptance to several Ivy League schools, but she is (sadly) not a mindreader. Nor it seems is anyone else in the room because none of them have any clue what Stiles is talking about or why he’s patting his pockets looking for his phone. He finds it on the floor beside him and stumbles through opening whatever function he’s looking for. Satisfied he smiles gleefully at Derek and puts out his lips in a pout when he looks ready to refuse. 

Surprisingly, or maybe not since he’s high as a kite, Derek laughs at Stiles’ actions before switching to his beta features and pleads, “Cara mia.”  
Stiles leans forward, his phone steady in his grip as he replies, (in perfect French) “Mon sauvage.”  
Lydia can see the red light recording on Stiles’ phone and is curious why he would want to record this. A moment later, Derek crawls closer and tells him “To live without you only that would be torture.”  
Stiles stifles back a giggle and Erica has to clap a hand over her own mouth so she doesn’t laugh and break the mood. With a twisted smile Stiles responds in kind, “A day alone, only that would be death.”  
Derek can’t do it though, he can’t keep a straight face. 

Stiles has barely finished speaking when Derek bursts into laughter, his body shuddering with it as his beta visage disappears. Somehow they’re collapsing against each other, barking out loud belly laughs that have everyone in the surgery staring at them. Lydia will have to get that video off Stiles in the morning, or maybe now, before Derek realises and has a chance to delete it. She has one arm outstretched to snatch it when Stiles tugs it against his chest and taps hastily at the screen. He turns it around and practically shoves it in Derek’s face laughing as he tells him, “You made Wednesday smile!”  
Lydia can just about see the photo from where she is but moves closer anyway. There’s a photo of a woman with long black hair and the palest skin she has ever seen staring out of the screen. She is not however smiling, in fact, she doesn’t look like she even knows how. Still Derek looks at it carefully, his eyes crinkling, “Wow she actually is. Whats-his-face must have made her all mellow.”  
Stiles flails backwards nearly toppling to the ground again, but Derek catches him, shoving their bodies even closer together than before, “Judas is so not mellowing her, dude how could you even say that? I’m gonna’ tell her and she’s gonna’ eat your bones!”  
Stiles is tapping away before Derek can even react, but when he does he only laughs harder, telling Stiles between wheezed out breaths, “You’re his best man Stiles, you can’t call him that anymore. Not once he marries your sister anyway.”  
Lydia sees Scott freeze, his entire body stalling at Derek’s words. Stiles does not nor never has had a sister. At least not that she is aware. 

The two continue on oblivious to the scrutiny they are under, “But it’s such a better name! She says you’re gonna’ be her new ‘speriment and that your impression of dad isn’t as good as my one of mom.”  
Derek scoffs at him and takes the phone away to read for himself, muttering “I’m so much better than him! I even made the face.”  
Derek’s eyes flashed red with steely determination as he set the phone to record and glared at Stiles, “We’re doing this again, this time I’m her and you’re me, him, got it?”  
Stiles nodded his head vigorously, Lydia was almost afraid it would snap off. This time Stiles starts, his voice pitched deep for effect, “Look at her. I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way, what bliss.”  
Lydia is finding it difficult to recognise anything of the Sheriff in his behaviour. Derek ploughs on though, gesturing wildly at Stiles (the camera-phone) “Last night you were unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me. Do it again!”  
The last is almost sultry in a tone that makes Erica scrunch her nose in distaste. Whatever game they are playing it’s obviously something they’ve done before but Lydia has to wonder when and who exactly they are supposed to be portraying. The sheriff, though still deeply in love with his wife, would never behave that way. 

It’s possible that this is all some drunk hallucination they are sharing, but then who was the girl and who is Stiles texting? It is imperative she gets her hands on that phone. Deaton is shuffling closer with Scott now while the two on the floor mutter at each other in French for the camera. At one point Lydia is almost certain she saw Derek place a line of kisses on Stiles’ outstretched arm. Carefully Deaton hunkers down to face the pair, drawing attention to himself by removing the phone from Stiles’ outstretched palm and handing it to Scott (who instantly passes it to Lydia under death glare no.5 – patent pending). Stiles wobbles a little, losing what little balance he has and shoves into Derek, knocking them both face first onto the floor. Lydia hopes Erica caught that on film, because watching Derek Hale fall when he’s already sitting was priceless! 

As quickly and surreptitiously as she can Lydia sends all of the photos and videos taken within the last hour to herself and then forwards all of his messages as well. If they’re boring she’ll delete them, but if not, well information was power. Done, she focuses her attention back on Derek and Stiles. Deaton has helped them into a sitting position and Derek is bleeding again, but he’ll heal. Amused, Deaton tells them, “Alright it should wear off in another hour, two at most. Tomorrow you’ll wake up dehydrated and feeling generally awful but there shouldn’t be any side-effects. Now take a sip of this so everyone can go home.”  
He holds out something purple and vile looking. Derek blinks twice, sniffs and backs away, muttering to Stiles, “I miss your granny’s cooking. Her belladonna isn’t purple sludge!”  
Deaton’s head snaps around so fast to Stiles that Lydia knows he must have whiplash. Stiles’ mouth is open wide, his bitten thumb held in the air like he was caught misbehaving, but once again he ignores everything except Derek, “Oh man I haven’t had her spécialité de la maison in forever. I’m so gonna’ ask her to make it at the wedding. I’ll ask for that you ask for her Belladonna and Blackblood pie! Oh man this is gonna’ be the best thing ever.”  
That sounded disgusting and Lydia is going to make certain to never eat anything Stiles recommends ever again. Deaton’s fingers clutch at Stiles’ wrist (still midair) and force him to pay attention, he lets go once Derek growls, but he has Stiles’ attention so he persists, “Tell me about your family Stiles. They use belladonna in baking?”  
Belladonna is traditionally a poison, yet another reason to never eat with Stiles. It’s Derek who answers, his thumb rubbing carefully over Stiles’ wrist where Deaton grabbed him, “The Addams’ make the best food. My nan used to swap receipies with them all the time but they never tasted the same. She was always afraid of killing us.”  
Sensible, Lydia can’t find a fault in that argument, but it does bring up the interesting revelation that Derek and Stiles knew each other before Scott became a werewolf. The Addams’ thing, well that’s something to be investigated as well. Deaton seems to agree, inching closer to the pair to ask, “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Eudora Addams, sometimes called Esmeralda Frump?”  
There’s a light in Deaton’s eye that Lydia doesn’t like, a gleam that shouldn’t be there. Stiles, oblivious and still drugged, smiles brightly “You know granny? Isn’t she awesome? Not as awesome as mom though, 'cause you know that’s not possible.”  
The fingers caressing Stiles’ wrist have moved up to his jawline and Derek is completely out of it, ignoring everything that isn’t Stiles’ neck. “Yes Stiles. I know your family very well. I don’t recall ever hearing of a Stiles though?”  
It was subtle but Lydia’s pretty sure the entire room leaned closer, desperate to hear Stiles’ real name. Stiles stayed silent, his breath coming fast as Derek moved from touching his neck to kissing it, nipping at the pale skin and leaving behind a hazy glow of red beard burn. They should go, right now, because she does not want to watch Derek and Stiles have sex on the floor of a vetinary clinic. She’s tugging Erica away when Deaton leans closer, desperate for answers, “Please Stiles tell me your name.”  
Stiles responds by tugging Derek closer with one hand shoving Deaton away with the other, mumbling “Go ‘way!” 

Derek clambers on top of him and they really need to leave. Lydia still has Stiles’ phone though and looks down when a text alert comes. It’s open before she even thinks about it and whatever strange thing she may have been expecting, _“Pubert Addams fuck him or I will!” _was not it. Leaving the phone on the counter she lead a now traumatized Scott out of the surgery. Deaton wasn’t far behind, locking the door carefully behind them only stopping to throw some condoms under the door before joining them in the parking lot. Blushing furiously he waved goodbye muttering something too low for her to hear. She would have to ask Erica about it later, there were more important things to do first. Rounding on the blonde, she pulled herself to her full height (each inch more intimidating than the last) and demanded, “You better have gotten all of that on camera or I swear I will eviscerate you!” Erica blinked owlishly before smirking wildly at them both, “Oh yeah I got it alright. I cannot wait for the morning. Derek is going to be mortified and Stiles, well he’s got a lot of explaining to do.”__  
Lydia can’t help but giggle at that and soon the two of them are laughing too loudly into the cold night air. It’s Scott who breaks the moment, his tone hesitant and confused, “I didn’t even know he liked guys and he hates Derek!”  
There are some days when Lydia honestly wonders why she bothers at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles smelled like humiliation and sex, the scent hit her before she even clapped eyes on him, announcing to the world that the morning after had not gone well. Erica was going to kill Derek. Seriously though, what was the problem? Stiles was in love with Derek and Derek was arse over tits for him too, so why the fuck did Stiles reek like that? Scott made a beeline for the kid, wrapping him in his arms and growling under his breath about Derek. In all honesty, Erica wanted to do the same, he just looked so defeated. Whatever afterglow he had was long gone. He kept his eyes down, but Erica could pick up the faint scent of tears. He wasn’t even angry, just hurt and in desperate need of someone to love him. 

Scott had that role fairly well in hand, he gripped him tightly and let out a snarl at Stiles’ stuttered sobs. Christ it was heartbreaking, more so because the asshole who was to blame for all of this was standing in the corner glaring at them both. Angry and not sure why, after all Stiles isn’t her friend not really, she walloped Derek upside the head and told him quietly “Whatever you said you better fix this you asshole!”  
She knew Scott heard her but Stiles hadn’t and really that’s all that matters. Right now that boy is falling to pieces and it’s all Derek’s fault. He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed! Just wait until Lydia found out about this, Erica could count on her to make Derek pay. That girl had a habit of humiliating people who hurt Stiles. Sure mostly it was school kids who didn’t know better (there aren’t very many of those left; Lydia is very thorough) but she was more than capable of shaming their Alpha. In fact, she should be here for this, it would give her better ammunition when she tore into him. Glaring again, because really, how had he fucked this up? Erica made her way to a quiet corner of the surgery and texted Lydia to get her ass here stat. She was probably on her way, but it was important that she know what she was walking into. That way she could build up a good head of steam on the way over. 

Stiles’ sobs were stuttering to a stop by the time Lydia arrived five minutes later. Hastily he batted at his red eyes and tried to clean himself up for the redhead but it was obvious to anyone that he was hurting. Lydia took one look at him and marched over to Derek (still lurking in the corner; he had tried to escape but Erica had Deaton block all of the entries with mountain ash until this was sorted out). The only term Erica could think of to describe Lydia’s speech was shrill, ear splittingly shrill and vigorous, she cut into the alpha with the precision of a surgeon flaying him alive. It was amusing to watch Derek shrink in on himself, his eyes flashing to Stiles ever few moments. It was almost like he was expecting help, but why would Stiles rescue him when he was the one who caused this? Erica tuned back in to hear Lydia say “I don’t care what kind of intimacy issues you have Hale, you knew perfectly well that this was Stiles’ first time, no matter what regrets you may have this morning leaving him in tears and humiliated in front of everyone was not the way to express them.”  
Derek tried to say something but was instantly cut off, “You were both drugged so that’s not an excuse. All it did was lower your inhibitions, it didn’t force you to have sex with him and as you were both drugged I don’t think consent is an issue here. After all you are both over eighteen and neither one of you are in a committed relationship. Unless there’s something you want to tell me?”  
She barely paused before continuing, “You will make this right Hale or so help me I will ruin you!”  
The scary part is Erica’s pretty sure she could do it, hell once Stiles stopped crying he’d probably help. “Now tell me exactly what you said so we can fix this.”  
It was a demand pure and simple. 

Derek took another long deliberating look at Stiles (now cuddled up in Scott’s sweater) before answering slowly, “I told him it was a mistake and wouldn’t happen again.”  
Lydia's tone was Arctic, “So you used him for sex and then threw him away the moment it was over.”  
“No! That’s not, I just don’t think it’s a good idea. We fight all the time and I’m not very good at relationships. Plus I’m too old! Look Stiles, I’m sorry this isn’t how I wanted things to go between us and I would like us to still be friends if we can?”  
His entire focus, in fact everyone’s focus, was on Stiles. The boy shoved a drawstring into his mouth and took in a shuddering breath before replying, “I don’t think I can do that. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you dude, we can’t really go back to being sorta friends after last night. I’m sorry.”  
He was sorry, Erica could smell it, see it in his drooping shoulders and tearful gaze. More importantly so could Derek. The older man was standing erect and Erica could almost see his wolf pacing inside him, desperate to get to Stiles. But Derek held it in check somehow, his eyes lingering on the vivid bruises covering Stiles’ skin. His neck looked like he’d been attacked by a vampire it was so mottled with colour. Derek must have sucked each one deliberately into his skin, they would probably take days to fade and even then the memory of them would still be there, just under the surface. None of his other girlfriends ever left his bed looking like that, not even the guys he occasionally slept with (all bearing a remarkable similarity to Stiles) ended up with more than beard burn. Whatever reason Derek was trying to deny himself now, last night he had let his wolf loose. Smirking to herself she grabbed a hold of Lydia and pulled her away from the shell-shocked Derek. Tapping carefully on her phone she showed the other girl what she’d written, it was simple really. Derek was in love with Stiles and now that his wolf had a taste he would never be able to give him up, no matter what he said. Lydia’s bright smile caused a spike of fear in Derek’s scent but this was for his own good so he could get over it. Turning her back on the still silent Derek; he really needed to use his words more, Erica and Lydia made their way across the room to Stiles. The boy was staring at Derek, desperate for a reply, clearly hoping for an ‘I love you too’ or even an ‘I know’, but Derek stayed silent. “Scott why don’t you go ask Deaton to undo the mountain ash. Derek has somewhere else to be.”  
In one sentence Lydia, a five foot three human, dismissed the big bad alpha werewolf. It was a beautiful thing to watch. 

Scott shuffled off and Lydia wrapped a manicured finger around the drawstring in Stiles’ mouth, tugging it away from him. “We have things to talk about Stiles. Let’s start with your real name and why you have a sister I’ve never heard of before last night.”  
Stiles let out a low moan and pushed his head into his hands. His obvious distress had Derek shifting closer to them, then deliberately stopping himself several feet away. “I can’t do this, you’re really not going to say anything?”  
His glare was aimed at Derek and he was clearly intent on ignoring Lydia for as long as possible. Derek ducked his head down, unable to meet Stiles’ eyes and the boy let out another heart-wrenching sob. “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be here, not like this.”  
He was up in an instant, power walking out of the surgery before anyone could stop him. Derek made an aborted move to try but stopped two steps away, letting him escape through the door and leave them all behind. Erica would like to think that Derek squirmed under her glare, but it was probably Lydia’s glare he was squirming under, after all that thing had a patent pending! 

Hours later she received a text from Lydia two words long that made her heart break, _“He’s gone.” ___

She let out a hurt howl that echoed through the night and waited. Derek’s came minutes later and was gut wrenching, his sorrow made her eyes water and her wolf ache. Stiles was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

He shouldn’t have come. It was a mistake. He should leave, now, before anyone saw him. He would have too if there wasn’t a hand gripping his elbow holding him in place. He steeled himself and made his way through the crowd. There were people everywhere but that didn’t mean he got lost in the crowd. His pack were too large to go unnoticed. He had tried to explain this before they left, but everyone insisted on coming with him, even Peter had made the trip. He couldn’t help the angry little growl that slipped out when Scott asked, “Why is everyone staring at us?”  
It took all of his patience not to hit him sometimes. Through gritted teeth he explained (again) “A large pack of werewolves has crashed Wednesday’s wedding, of course people are going to stare Scott.”  
Lydia huffed beside him, an annoyed exhale that he agreed with wholeheartedly. She was the reason he was here in the first place. Her constant questions and never ending nagging had forced him to reluctantly admit his feelings for Stiles. Two minutes later she was assembling the pack and discussing grand romantic speeches. Like he was going to give some grand romantic speech! That girl spent too much time watching The Notebook. It was giving her unreal expectations. 

Isaac, body curled tightly into himself whispered, “So is Stiles supernatural then, ‘cause everyone here is kinda freaky?”  
He’d have been better off biting a teddy bear. Peter saved him from answering, his tone smug as he assessed Derek’s first born. He had no right to look like that, he bit Scott! Isaac was a million times better than him, but oh no he had to make that face. He tried to tune him out but his smug voice cut through everything, “That is an interesting question Isaac and a difficult one to answer. Technically Stiles is human.”  
Derek couldn’t help the derisive scoff that came out of his mouth and frankly he wasn’t going to apologise for it either. Peter ignored him, “Being a Hale means something Isaac, but being an Addams, well that means everything. They’re a sort of supernatural royalty. Didn’t you wonder why the Alpha pack ran away like that, tails tucked between their legs and quivering with fear?”  
Isaac and the others nodded dumbly, but Derek couldn’t help but notice the tinge of fear wafting from Erica and Boyd. Breaking out of Lydia’s iron-like grip he brushed up against his betas, offering them what comfort he could. “All it took was an introduction to Stiles and they knew better than to come back. Of course I myself wasn’t there for the encounter, so I can only assume it went something like this. ‘Get off my territory or I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth’” That was a terrible impression of him, his voice wasn’t nearly so girly and soft! Yet again he was ignored as Peter continued in a frantic tone, arms flailing wide in an impression of Stiles “'Yeah what he said bitches! Come on Der-Bear rip them apart so I can play with their entrails and send them to Wednesday.'  
At which point, Deucalion, being a fiercely intelligent man, went ‘Derek Addams-Hale we surrender, please don’t tell your mother-in-law!'”  
Let it be noted that he was not amused. The rest of the pack were in hysterics though, complimenting Peter on his skills. 

It was only Lydia who stayed silent, her mind ticking over like a clock and he probably wasn’t going to like whatever she was thinking. He was proved right moments later when she asked Peter sweetly, “Why Derek Addams-Hale?”  
Peter’s eyes lit up with glee and he should run, escape now, to hell with Stiles. Or maybe he could find Stiles and they could escape together. He tried to sneak off, sifting through the pack making a beeline for Aunt Debbie’s grave when Boyd’s arm shot out and latched onto him. He allowed himself to be pulled back because this was Wednesday’s wedding and making a scene would be disastrous to his health. “Derek here is an honorary Addams. Has been since the first time he held little Pubert in his arms. It was his pathetic attempt to avoid his mate that led him into Kate’s arms, of course it didn’t last very long. He was here with Laura when that bitch killed everyone. He came to beg forgiveness from a ten year old. Sweet really.”  
He was going to tear apart that smug smile and re-bury the bastard. He felt himself shift, claws out and teeth bared when a hand clapped onto his shoulder startling him human. 

Peter nodded his head in respect and backed away, hiding his own claws as Derek tried to smile at the older man. Gomez pulled him into a too tight hug, smiling brightly at him around a lit cigar. “Derek old man we thought you weren’t going to make it! Wednesday is fit to be tied, we got her some lovely rope for her honeymoon, she’s been looking for you all day. Now now I know things with Pubert are difficult but you’re here and so is he so have at it.”  
He was trying to ignore the thing about ropes, because no, but focusing on Wednesday hunting him down wasn’t a much better option either. Gomez laughed and slapped his back again, “My boy’s not like his brother and Fester, he doesn’t go around breaking hearts and destroying lives, he’s a one creature man. You need to woo him Derek! There’s a lovely little torture wheel set up around the back if you really want to get his attention. Just strap him in and make him listen to you. Well I’d better get going the ceremony starts at moonrise and Wednesday wants everything to be perfect.”  
Thankfully Gomez had the attention span of a gnat, something Pubert inherited from him, unfortunately he also inherited his stubborn nature and willingness to bear a grudge. Tying him up might be his best chance to talk to him properly. Looking around he noticed the slack jaws of his pack, their eyes flitting between Gomez’s retreating back and Derek. Unable to bear it he asked, “What?”  
It was Erica who asked, “Did he seriously just tell you to torture his son into loving you?”  


Maybe he should have explained some things before they got here, but in his defence, how do you explain the Addams’? Ignoring their interested looks and the downright concern painting Scott’s features, he scanned the crowd again. The cemetery was teeming with people, some he recognized, some he didn’t. He took a sharp left at Aunt Lobelia’s grave and skittered past Uncle Knick-Knack, careful not to touch the decrepit old man; he smelled worse than the Bog of Eternal Stench! The pack stuttered along after him, the wolves gagging from the smell while Lydia crinkled her noses in distaste. Once they made it past him he had a better view of things. He could see clear across the quicksand and right over to the far reaches of the swamp. He couldn’t see Pubert though. It was Isaac who spotted him, pointing to a couple backed against a wall near the mausoleum. “I think that’s Stiles, but who’s he with?” All they could see was long brown hair with an absurd amount of pink bows. He could smell Lydia’s envy from five feet away. It did nothing to fix his mood though. Through gritted teeth he told Isaac “Who.”  
She was touching Stiles, Pubert, he was Pubert here surrounded by everything he loved, the flailing boy from Beacon Hills was gone and replaced by the man Derek had slowly been falling in love with since he was eight years old. Who ran her fingers down Pubert's chest, toying with the buttons on his waistcoat like a harlot. He was going to rip her apart! Isaac let out an exasperated sigh as they made their way closer, ploughing through the crowd. “That’s what I’m asking.”  
“Her name is Who, she’s Cousin It’s eldest, she’s always had a thing for Pubert.”  


He used to shoot her down the second she came near him though. Maybe he still was and she just couldn’t take a hint or maybe he had rejected his mate like a moron and now Stiles didn’t want him anymore. Maybe he was an idiot who had ruined any chance of having a future together with the man he loved and instead was going to have to watch them have perfect little babies together. He didn’t try to contain his snarl as he ripped her away from Pubert. He held his claws against her throat and enjoyed her struggle for breaths. “Derek what the hell!” He let out a small sigh of relief, soothed by his mates voice. Of course he could do without the shock and anger filling it, but knowing that Pubert was still willing to speak to him more than made up for it. The younger boy shoved Derek away from her and he let him, basking in the feeling of his mate’s hands on his chest. “She was touching you.”  
Pubert’s face contorted, the warm amber of his eyes bleeding black with fury. “You do not have the right to decide who does and does not touch me you asshole! You gave it up when you fucking used me!”  
People were starting to stare, a small group gathering around the pack to ogle. He could only pray that Wednesday didn’t notice. Tilting his head down he dropped his voice and leaned in close to his mate, inhaling the perfect scent of him. “I was dumb and I’m sorry but I didn’t mean to hurt you. Not like that. I should have mated you the second you turned fourteen instead of running away. I should have stayed by your side and been there for you instead of forcing you from your home. I’ll do anything you ask, beg on my knees and worship at your feet, just please don’t turn me away.”  
The boy weaved closer then pulled back sharply, his eyes flickering between Derek’s mouth and his neck, at least one thing remained the same then; Pubert still wanted him. He reached a hand out and caressed the black brocade of his waistcoat, running his thumb down to his navel. He had never seen his mate like this, glowing with rage but soft with want. It made him beautiful, more beautiful than the bespoke suit he was wearing ever could. He wanted him to look like that always. 

He was so focused on the soft texture and firm abs beneath it that he didn’t see the blade until it was sticking out of his ribs. He felt it though, the slice through his flesh and the pain as it tore at his insides. It made him stumble forward, fumbling into Stiles’ open arms and wide smile. The blade was wrenched out and his pack fought to get to him but something held them back. He turned his head away dreading what he might see and nearly collapsed when he realised he was safe, it was only Pugsley. The older boy was twirling the bloody knife in his hands, smiling brightly at the pair. He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, the relief and joy that flooded him as his flesh healed. The blade bit into his cheekbone quick as a flash before he was pulled into a tight hug, the blade now forgotten on the ground. He hugged Puglsey back happy to see his old friend and glad to be forgiven for his indiscretions. Of course Pubert still hadn’t forgiven him, but one family member on side was something at least (he refused to count Gomez). Pubert looked livid, glaring at his older brother “You had no right to do that! I was supposed to have first blood, I’m the one he hurt!”  
He very nearly stomped his foot. Derek would have laughed if he hadn’t wanted to keep his dick for later use. Instead he dropped to his knees and held up the blade for his mate. He could almost hear Pugsley roll his eyes. 

Pubert gripped it tightly, barely letting his hand touch Derek’s. It made his hands sticky and red, contrasting beautifully against his too pale skin. One day (hopefully soon) Derek wanted to lick all of that pale skin under the moonlight. Pubert placed the tip of the blade carefully against Derek’s throat, right over the jugular, pressing in just enough to cut him. It was heady and exciting and he didn’t even try to hide his arousal. Instead he spread his knees a little wider and offered himself to Pubert. “You’re a jackass and an asshole and you are going to be paying for this for years to come, do you understand me?”  
He nodded his head in acknowledgement, enjoying the way it made the blade bite deeper. “Father thinks I should forgive you. Wednesday thinks I should tie you to the rack and make you work for it a little, stretch you out and slice you up, would you like that?”  
He was painfully hard. His erection pressing against his too tight jeans in the most exquisite torture, he could barely speak, could barely moan out a please before Pubert was kissing him. It was hard and wet and with each breath the blade sunk deeper. He could feel the blood pouring down his neck and into his throat, knew Pubert could taste it. When they parted his lips were covered in Derek’s blood, his teeth glistening with it. Dropping the knife he lunged for Derek’s throat, digging his teeth in hard, binding them together for life. It made his wolf whimper with joy and demand to mark his mate. 

A small hand pried the pair apart, Derek’s teeth lingering on his mates neck as his eyes flitted across the boys blissed out face. Fuck he was perfect. He was so perfect that Derek hadn’t realised it was Wednesday until he was being flung across the cemetery, his arms pin-wheeling out. She was tiny, five feet two at most, this little thing that terrified him. She came at him with an axe found who knows where and promptly buried it in his chest with a grin. Instead of jumping to his rescue his mate laughed, brushing the dirt off his pants while Derek tried to gurgle out a breath. His lungs had collapsed and the axe was still pressing against them. He was about to pass out when her tiny delicate fingers wrapped around the shaft and pulled it out, leaving him heaving in aching breaths like a drowning man. Her cold gaze latched onto the mark on his neck, her head tilting to the side in curiosity, “Welcome to the family Derek.”  
Her smile was a cruel thing, with sharp edges and broken glass, but it was the best he would likely get so he tried to smile around the pain. “My wedding is about to start, you should clean up, I’ll expect a dance later. Pubert has promised to do the Mamushka.”  
She gathered up the long black train of her dress and made her way through the crowd to a blushing Joel. 

The pack surrounded him, Isaac leaching his pain away as Peter offered out a hand to drag him upwards. They were white as bone and reeked of terror and confusion, well everyone except Peter. He seemed inordinately pleased by the whole thing and was eyeing up Pugsley like he a lump of steak. That explains why he insisted on coming at least. Once Derek was upright again his uncle slunk over to the elder Addams, forcing himself in between Puglsey and Who. A moment later and Pugsley was leading Peter around the back while Who’s mother scolded her for chasing a mated man. He could hear her high pitched whine cut off as soon as Margaret mentioned her father. Derek let himself smirk a little, after all, cousin It would be furious! 

He was breathing normally again when Pubert latched onto his arm and tugged him towards the ceremony. The moon had risen and Wednesday really would kill them if they missed her big night. He let himself be pulled along, relishing the curious glances and jealous whispers, Pubert was his now and always would be. No-one could tear them apart. The pack trundled along after them like misplaced luggage, glued together and desperately hoping to find a way home. He probably should have told them Stiles was Pubert to begin with. He should have explained the importance of the Addams’ within supernatural society. He should have marked his mate as his own long before now. He should have done a lot of things, but with Gomez kissing Morticia’s arm as she mumbled hushed French and Wednesday mixed her blood with Joel’s, he couldn’t help but feel that this, all of it, was somehow meant to be. This was his happy ever after, a moonlit wedding ceremony in a dark graveyard that would someday hold their bones side by side.


End file.
